An Ordinary Boy
by DramaQueen50
Summary: "I wish to tell you the tale of an ordinary boy thrust into extraordinary circumstances." John nodded as he shifted to face me, his eyes shining with suppressed excitement. "I met him when he had just turned eleven, and his name was Harry Evans." VERY AU! Contains dark/mature themes! Abuse! Not a happy story! Implied slash/mpreg. Pairings undecided. Don't like, don't read!
1. Chapter 1: It Begins

**AN: This is a story I've been thinking about for months. I finally perfected this chapter and decided to post this on FF. I will not likely update frequently, nor will I update on a regular basis. This story should span the entirety of the Harry Potter series, and it is VERY AU! Please read the warnings as this story is not happy, and it has mentions of very dark themes. THIS IS NOT SNARRY! It's a mentor/father fic. I have yet to decide if Harry will actually date anyone or not.**

_**Warnings: Child abuse of EVERY kind, prostitution, language, slash, implied mpreg, AU, OOC Snape just a little. **_

**I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

**DramaQueen50**

**An Ordinary Boy**

**_It Begins_  
**

In my old age I admit to becoming somewhat of a recluse, a hermit of sorts if you will. I live in a tiny, single bedroom cottage on the very outskirts of a rather diminutive village. My social interactions are next to nil, and I often spend my days in silence, simply absorbing the serenity of the valley I occupy.

Indeed my home is a peaceful place. The village I live within—St. Godric's Grove for those who are pedantic individuals with no patience— is nestled in a shallow valley between two small mountains. It is a little known village with a priceless vista. My cottage happens to be deep within the valley on the edge of a shallow river. The water is crystalline in its clarity and sparkles brilliantly when it is struck by the sun. The grass in the surrounding area is lush and thick. The bright pigments of each blade create a seamless carpet of unending summer green that soothes my very soul.

It is in this valley that I have lived for the last twenty years of my life, surrounded by thick evergreen trees and silence in its purest form. For twenty years I was alone, reveling in the peace I had never received in my youth. For twenty years, I secluded myself, exiling my presence from a world that had no further use of me.

And then the child arrived.

I had no knowledge of his name or background; he was simply a child from the village. Every morning, he would walk to my cottage, picking his way through the dense forests and dangerous trails. Each morning, when I made my way to my porch to sit and stare at the sky, he was waiting, leaning against the railing of the steps leading to my door. He did not speak, he made not a sound. He simply stared at the sky in wonder, watching the rolling clouds with all the innocent curiosity of a child his age.

I grasped my mug with a surprisingly firm grip for such an age as my own impressive seniority. Taking care to open each window as I moved towards the porch, I smiled when I caught sight of his shadow. It was once again casting darker shading over the steps and surrounding grass.

It appears the boy has wormed his way into my cold heart. Yes I will eagerly admit to having a heart of frigid ice, a heart which he had settled himself in without a care in the world. Stepping into the bright, late-morning sunshine I carefully eased myself into the rocking chair I had placed outside for this very purpose. A content sigh escaped my chapped lips as I watched the thick clouds above, swaying to the rhythm of the wind.

The clouds performed an intricate dance with the wind, each twisting and turning about the other. It was a dance performed for the amusement of the population, yet rarely did anybody take the time to appreciate the very art of such a delicate display of synchronicity.

I know of only a few on this planet who truly appreciate the beauty of the skies.

Such thoughts bring a chill to my constantly frozen heart, hitching the summer air that passes into my lungs. The little boy resting upon my step blinks up at me in surprise, obviously confused by the abnormal change in my usually peaceful demeanor. His intelligent green eyes are eerily similar to those of a child who had wormed his way into my heart as well; the first child to have done so.

"What is your name, boy?" I find the words passing from my throat without explicit permission from my brain. The young boy is shocked into silence by my words. He simply stares into my own onyx orbs, his coral lips slightly parted in surprise.

It does not take long for him to regain his equilibrium, and he soon replies "John, sir." I hummed in contemplation as I stared at the sky, watching the clouds move ever faster as they kept pace with the breeze.

"You are a young boy John. What do you like to do?" The boy—John—squirmed in his seat for a brief moment before he blushed and dropped his head, his shaggy hair covering his rosy cheeks.

"I like stories sir." I felt my own head bob as my thoughts roiled in a tumultuous mass of confusion. In twenty years I had not once spoken of the child who had appeared in my life so suddenly. In twenty years I had lost myself in my memories, drowning myself in the sorrows of the past.

This boy, this child from the village, however, had changed that pattern. Of course he had.

"I am well past my prime John, having reached that age many years ago. I have a plethora of stories to share, but I have yet to find a willing ear to share them with. Do you wish to hear them?" The thoughts and emotions prompting such an offer are a mystery to me, even today as I write this tale for you to read.

John's eyes sparkled with delight as he leaned forward with childish glee. "Oh yes please sir!" He cried softy, an innocent, cherubic smile illuminating his face.

"I must warn you John, my story is not a happy one. There are no princes and princesses of old. The ending is not as joyful as the trifling tales the adults fill your head with today. Do you still want to hear it?" I turned my eyes on him, stilling the child with a glare I hadn't employed in some thirty years. He gave a shaky nod and a sense of satisfaction welled within my chest. I fear I would have been heartily disappointed if the child had refused.

Settling myself into the old rocking chair, I prepared my heart for the inevitable sharing of a tale not told for many decades. My throat closed suddenly, and it took several moments before I was able to clear it. The entire time I stared at the edge of the forest, memories flitting across my mind's eye at the speed of light. When I had finally cleared my throat of the unknown obstruction, I wet my lips and began to speak.

"I wish to tell you the tale of an ordinary boy thrust into extraordinary circumstances." John nodded as he shifted to face me, his eyes shining with suppressed excitement. "I met him when he had just turned eleven, and his name was Harry Evans."

My eyes flickered over the decrepit house with considerable disdain. It reminded me far too much of my childhood home in Spinner's End. Despite remodeling the entire structure upon gathering the necessary funds, I would still fall witness to terrible memories when walking the foundations. Shaking my head slightly to dispel my thoughts, I strode towards the door with confidence. Raising my fist to knock upon the warped, rotting wood, I was surprised to hear muffled yelling within.

"...I won't have my daughters spreading their legs like common whores!" The voice was distinctly male, a rough growl that was raised to a rather loud volume. Pressing subtly closer to the door, I stayed silent as I listened. Years in a precarious position as a spy for Albus Dumbledore within the ranks of the Dark Lord's innermost circle, had taught me to gather as much information as possible when the opportunity presented itself.

"We ain't whores! We're prostitutes!" A girl cried back. I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. Perhaps Albus had given me the wrong address; surely a child couldn't be living _here_.

"It doesn't matter! Your mother's more than enough of a slut for the both of you! Get out of those clothes and get a real job!"

"Oi! That's enough about mum Pa!" Another voice joined the fray, male as well though less gruff than the supposed father. "I won't listen to you goin' on about mum!" Muffled shuffling reached my ears, followed by a hollow thud on the wall near my left shoulder. I thought it wise to believe someone had thrown another against the wall.

"That's enough boy! You need to learn your place!"

"Pa!" Two girls cried loudly, and I felt it prudent to make my presence known. Raising my fist for a second time, I brought it down upon the door in several sharp raps sending echoes through the house. It went quiet as several people muttered and cursed, shuffling about the room. The door creaked as it was opened, and my gaze was met by a pair of watery, bloodshot hazel eyes.

A tall man of about 6'2" stood before me. His jaw was square and covered in scruff, likely the beginnings of an unkempt beard. He had broad, muscular shoulders and large arms. His situation made it obvious the muscle was from work rather than a gym membership. The man reeked of alcohol and smoke, indeed a pack of cigarettes rested in the breast pocket of his stained shirt. He had a bird's nest of oily, disheveled hair atop his shiny head. The thick locks were deep ebony in color, and were likely his pride and joy in his youth. "Who're you?!" He demanded, much to my disdain.

"My name is Severus Snape, and I am here for one Harry James Evans." The man's face clouded over as his cheeks grew red. He pointed an accusatory finger at me as he advanced towards me ever so slightly.

"I know who you are. You're one of them wizards from the damn school! Get off my land! I don't want ya here, an' my boy ain't goin'!" I sneered at him, ignoring the man's protests. Though he appeared to know something of the wizarding world, he obviously didn't know enough.

"Your son does not have a choice Mr. Evans. We received his acceptance via the mail, and as such he has been placed in a yearlong binding contract with the magic of his school. He must attend, or he could potentially be killed upon the night of September the first." The man gave a nasty grin, displaying his yellowed, rotting teeth.

"Then I'll just keep 'im here!" I blanched for a split second, hardly long enough for the man to notice before I had regained my composure. Did he truly hate his son enough to ensure the boy's death?

"I'm sorry sir, I cannot allow that." Flicking my wand, I quickly silenced the man and strode into the shadowed house, much to his anger. He shut the door sharply, slamming it into place but I paid him no mind. I was far too distracted by the sight before me.

The room was in as much disarray as the front of the house. Where the yard was unkempt and littered with a wide variety of weeds, the floor was covered in liquor bottles. Where dust rose around my ankles as I strode down the front path, smoke hung thick and heavy in the air. I could practically feel the cancer taking root in my lungs. Casting a discrete charm about my face to cleanse the air, I stared around me.

Plastic trays from microwaveable dinners and carry out cartons were strewn on the end and coffee tables. A small telly rested in one corner, a loud show blaring from the screen. Various levels of cursing emanated from the show, and I couldn't help but feel it was inappropriate in the house of an eleven year old boy.

Another man sat on a stained recliner, his blue eyes avidly fixed on the telly. He was absentmindedly smoking a cigarette, adding to the haze in the room. His legs were spread as he lounged in the chair, and his greasy, mouse brown hair barely covered the scar I could hardly discern. It crossed his left cheek in a deep gouge, marring his skin. A loud moan reached my ears and I blanched as I turned towards its source.

On the ratty couch was a girl. She was scantily clad in a black, lacy bra and thong. Long blonde hair ran to the middle of her back, and her head was thrown back in obvious ecstasy. A man had his face pressed between her breasts, his shaggy hair barely visible over her shoulders. A shudder ran down my spine as I caught sight of his hand flexing within the confines of her panties.

"Oh, fuck yeah baby! Shit! Jesus fuck baby, harder! Please, oh yeah!" The smell of sex mingled with the smoke, and I could hardly repress the urge to gag as I turned away. Another girl was watching the couple with hooded eyes, her gaze fixed on their undulating bodies. She was identical to the girl on the couch, obviously twin to the shouting woman. The two were dressed to match and must have been the source of the argument I had overheard previously.

Turning away in disgust and outrage, I strode from the room and down the hall. A door opened on the right ahead of me and a figure stepped out followed by another, more masculine shadow. The two conversed in low voices for a short moment, and I caught the tinkling sound of vials bumping against each other. The man stepped away with a promise of "Next Thursday sweetheart!" and I was left to face a nude woman.

She was older than the two in the living room, and I felt it was safe to presume she was the mother mentioned in the argument. Her long red hair was slightly greasy, though not nearly as much as the men's seemed to be. She had dulled green eyes that must have once shown with life and joy. Her painted nails were curled into her palms as she held a few vials in one hand. Her smeared lips split into a disgusting smile and her breasts bounced as she stepped forward. She pressed herself against me, much to my repulsion, and grasped my hand. I was unwilling to do harm to the woman as she smirked at me. "Hey sugar, are ya lookin' for a little fun?" She pressed my fingers to her slick crotch and I immediately wrenched my hand.

"I am not. Kindly remove yourself from my personal space, and do clothe yourself as well." Pushing around the pouting woman, I quickly opened the next door and sighed as I cast a wandless cleaning charm over my tainted hand. Three filthy mattresses were laid across the floor and only two people occupied the room. There was a small boy huddled in the corner and another, obviously older teen urinating into one of the many beer bottles littering the floor. My lip curled in revulsion as I turned away from him. The state of this house was absolutely deplorable, and the family was even worse. I could not allow this child to live here any longer, nor _would_ I allow it if I could help it.

Advancing towards the small boy, I knelt in front of him. "Are you Mr. Harry Evans?" He looked up at me from beneath ebony bangs, his piercing green eyes closed off and wary. The boy gave a short nod, and I nearly sighed in relief. "I am Professor Severus Snape of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Harry's eyes seemed to brighten for a moment, before dulling again, as though expecting this to be a joke. He didn't move as he stared at me from the corner, his gaze accusing me of trickery. "Mr. Evans, I assure you this is no trick, and I wish to vacate these premises as soon as possible. Kindly stand up so we might be on our way." With slow, precise movements, the boy began to rise, unfolding his thin limbs as he stood. His eyes never left me as he moved, as though he expected me to strike him down at the first sign of weakness. He probably did.

The boy swayed dangerously for a moment, before righting himself unsteadily. My stomach twisted with concern as I imagined the myriad of bruises and lacerations that were likely being hidden by his oversized clothing. Watching the boy carefully, I turned on my heel and beckoned he follow me. His light footsteps were hardly audible amongst the sounds of swearing, moans, and various people yelling. I nearly winced in sympathy for the child as I led him back down the hall I had emerged from.

The mother I had had the misfortune of meeting just minutes before was thankfully absent from her post in the hall. Eager to avoid the display in the living room, I turned right at the intersection at the end of the hall. Harry seemed oblivious to the cacophony and chaos around him, obviously having grown used to it.

We entered a grimy kitchen in silence. Someone was digging in the refrigerator, tight shorts clinging to her shapely legs. Harry stared at the girl with dull eyes as she stood up, nearly reaching my own height in her six inch pumps. I sneered at the red headed teen as she took a swig from some sort of alcoholic beverage. Her brown eyes tracked Harry with dull recognition.

"Where you off to Freak?" She demanded, much to my shock and horror. This family was appalling! How had Mr. Evans _survived_? Harry shrugged his thin shoulders, his eyes dropping to the tile floor. The teen took another swig from her bottle and smacked her lips appreciatively. "Pa know you're goin' off?" Harry shrugged a second time, and I felt it was high time we left this property.

"Mr. Evans is going to gather supplies for his school year, as you appear to be so unaware of. He will not be returning for quite some time." I informed the teen, ignoring her wide eyes and open mouth as well as Harry's own shock. "Come Mr. Evans, we are on a tight schedule." Placing a gentle hand on his back between his shoulder blades, I steered Harry through the kitchen and back out the front door, ignoring the roars of rage behind us.

"I am inclined to engage in a rather unpleasant form of magical transportation, Mr. Evans. If you would be so kind as to grasp my arm and hold tightly, I would appreciate it." The boy's trembling hands were chilled enough to be felt on my own skin, despite the fabric of my suit covering my flesh. Nodding my head at his terrified stare, I murmured "Do prepare yourself Mr. Evans," and with a distinct crack, we were gone.

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.

.

Mr. Evans stumbled upon landing just outside the Leaky Cauldron. My hands shot out as I grasped the child and gently steadied him. He was breathing raggedly, his eyes wide with fright as he clutched his stomach in an attempt to keep from expelling its contents. When he seemed somewhat steadier on his feet, I slowly released him. The boy was shivering, but I had reason to believe there was more to that than simple apparation. Standing straight, I gesture for the boy to follow me as I swept into the dingy bar.

The various occupants swiftly parted as I strode through the room, many recognizing me for who I was. I could barely hear Harry's quiet footsteps as he padded after me. Walking into the fenced courtyard behind the bar, I raised my wand for Harry to see. "Do pay attention Mr. Evans, you need to learn this sequence for future trips to the alley." The boy nodded sharply, and I tapped each brick with exaggerated movements, ensuring he had seen every motion. When the bricks began to shake and shuffle apart, Harry's eyes widened in shock. A small smile flitted across his lips before it was gone as quickly as it had arrived.

"We will first go to the wizarding bank Gringotts. It is run by creatures, and I expect you will execute the proper decorum, understand?" Harry nodded dazedly, having yet to speak a word. I was beginning to grow worried, but now was not the time to yet address the issue. Stepping into the bustling streets of the alley, I gently guided the skittish boy to walk in front of me. Harry was staring about with childish awe, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of everything at once. I couldn't help but smile ever so slightly as he adopted a look I had frequently seen on my own son's face.

As we began our ascent into Gringotts, Harry rapidly grew paler with each of the marble steps that passed beneath our feet. His small hand grasped the sleeve of my jacket and tugged ever so timidly. I paused and waited as he shuffled his feet, his hands twisting his large shirt fearfully. Harry's lips finally began to move, but so terrified was the child I could hear no words pass between them. "Could you please repeat that Mr. Evans, perhaps a touch louder this time?" Harry flinched at my question, but dutifully raised his voice.

"I-I-I haven't g-g-got any m-money sir." He mumbled his voice barely audible in the busy alley. I had assumed as much, but the small detail seemed to be petrifying the child. I placed on hand on his shoulder, ignoring the young boy's flinch in the hopes of helping him grow accustomed to positive touches.

"Do not worry Mr. Evans. I will be speaking to the goblins about the state of your finances, and you will be receiving money from the school's scholarship fund." Harry's eyes had widened when I mentioned the goblins, but he simply nodded. We continued into the bank, and quickly reached a free teller.

"I would like to register a new account for one Harry Evans." I informed the goblin, Sharptooth, in a silky tone. The goblin raised a brow as he reached for parchment and a quill.

"Parent names?" I looked down at the thin boy standing at my side. He blinked and whispered "James and Lily Evans."

"Will anyone else have access to the vault?" I pursed my lips in consideration before shaking my head.

"Mr. Evans and I shall be able to access the vault, with my husband gaining emergency access in my stead." The goblin scratched away at the parchment, his scrawling handwriting filling the aged paper.

"Of course, and what will the initial sum consist of?"

"Extract two hundred galleons from the Hogwarts Scholarship fund, as well as another three hundred from the Prince family vault, and place them in Mr. Evans vault. We will be taking out 150 galleons from those funds." The goblin nodded and gently placed a delicate dagger on the desk.

"I require a drop of blood from the both of you in order to key the wards into your signatures." I swiftly pricked my finger and placed the drop on the parchment before handing the knife to Harry. He looked at the dagger warily, but copied my movements as instructed. The goblin grinned. "Pleasure doing business with you." He rasped as he placed a heavy bag of galleons on the counter in front of me. I grasped the pouch and swept out of the bank with Harry at my heels.

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A loud, hollow grumbling filled my ears as I paused in my story. John blushed and ducked his head, rubbing his stomach as he scowled at the obnoxious noise maker. A chuckled lowly and groaned as I rose from my rocking chair. "Come John, I shall make us lunch." The boy grinned as he hopped up, pulling the door open for me.

Sunlight filtered in through the windows and an airy breeze tickled my ears as I shuffled into my kitchen. My bones creaked with every movement, but such were the woes of old age. Pulling a pot down from a rack above my head, I set it upon the stove and walked towards the sink to boil water. "Is magic real? I mean, is it _real_?" John asked quietly, his voice tinged with awe.

"Of course it is young man! Don't presume to think I would lie in my stories!" John giggled and quickly covered his mouth as the noise escaped him. I found myself smiling at the child's antics.

"Harry doesn't have a nice family, does he?" My heart clenched for a moment at the innocent question. Pouring the water into the heating pot, I reached for a box of noodles from the cabinet above my stove.

"No John, Harry did not have a nice family." The boy was quiet for several minutes as the water began to boil, and I poured the noodles into the pot.

"Harry could make a new family, couldn't he?" I paused in my work, my hand hovering over a jar of red spaghetti sauce. "Cause, family isn't always blood, right?"

"Indeed he could. Harry was a very special little boy, as ordinary as he was. I doubt anybody who ever had the pleasure of meeting him, truly deserved that pleasure." John shook his head from the corner of my eye.

"No. You met him, you deserved it." My eyebrows rose as I wandlessly loosened the cap on the jar.

"How do you suppose?" John chewed on his lip thoughtfully as he watched me cook.

"Well, cause of how you talk about him. You talk about him as if he were the best thing ever. Like he was your own son. You loved him, so you deserved to meet him." My heart was pounding in my ears as John's words rang in my head. Steam billowed out from the pot as I dumped the noodles into a strainer, effectively hiding my misty eyes. The spaghetti sauce bubbled in another pot on the stove as I scooped noodles onto two plates. Spooning sauce onto the mounds of noodles, I gently carried the plates to the table.

"You are a very perceptive little boy, John." I murmured, handing him a glass of milk as well. John smiled.

"Thank you Mr. Snape." The kitchen was quiet for a few moments as we sat, eating our meal in the afternoon sun.

"Does your mother know of your travels to my home each day?" I inquired, curious as to what the boy's answer may be. John seemed to slump in his seat as he poked at his food.

"Mum is sick, and she doesn't want me in the house often. I play outside and Dr. Jacobs comes by every day to check on her. He says she's not getting much better, and I always hear her moaning and screaming when he's there. Sometimes he has to stay overnight too!" A dull rage was settling in my stomach as I heard John's tale. It was far too similar to the very one I was telling John now—albeit, an abridged, appropriate version.

"Well John, you are always welcome in my home." John beamed as he twirled a large mouthful of noodles around his fork.

"Thanks Mr. Snape." He mumbled around the sticky food.

"Impudent brat." I muttered with affection. John's laughter filled the cottage, mingling delightedly with the afternoon sun.


	2. Chapter 2: Great Things

**_Warnings: Child abuse of EVERY kind, prostitution, language, slash, implied mpreg, AU, OOC Snape just a little. _**

**AN: Well, I didn't expect to get the next chapter up so quickly, but I was quite inspired. As I mentioned in the summary and the warnings, this is an AU fic, and you'll get an extensive taste of that aspect in this chapter. I apologize if anything seems confusing, and I plan on everything being explained further on. I know Snape seems a little OOC, but his life has been considerably different in this universe, so he has a tweaked personality. Do you guys like the perspective this is currently told from? I didn't know what everyone would think of a fic told from Severus Snape's perspective, but I hadn't yet read one either, so I decided to give it a shot. Anyway, I'm rambling. Enjoy your reading!**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

**DramaQueen50**

**An Ordinary Boy**

_**Great Things**_

The morning was dreary the following day. The clouds hung low in the valley, swollen with rain just waiting to fall. A low groan escaped me as I rolled from beneath the heavy duvet covering my bed. The sheets rustled softly as I stood, stretching my arms above my head. My eyes land on the picture frame resting atop my bedside table. Gently stroking the frame, I smile softly and murmur "Good morning love," before beginning my morning routine.

The hot water condenses into steam on the mirror in my bathroom, but I pay it no mind. I have no wish to see the streaks of gray running through my limp hair. Black robes fit my thin frame, tailored to my body as usual. They float just above the ground, swirling around my ankles. The effect is not nearly as impressive as it had once been.

Padding down the wooden hallway, I set a kettle on and wait as the water begins to boil. My eyes roam the forest outside, searching the shadowed depths for a sign of John's arrival. A flicker of color among the tree trunks has me humming softly. The boy dashes out of the forest, running towards my cottage with an innocent grin upon his face. A smile makes its way across my own face despite my best efforts to keep it away.

The kettle whistles shrilly and I turn away from the window to tend my tea. The steaming water changes as swirls of rich brown overtake the clear liquid. The strong smell of black tea tingles within my nose as John knocks upon my door. Leaving my tea to steep, I shuffle towards the oak door and pull it open to admit the boy. His little nose was bright red from the chill in the air, his blond hair hidden beneath a grey knit hat. Flicking my wand in the general direction of the fireplace, I lit the fire without the boy's notice. "Go sit down by the fireplace before you catch a chill. Little brat, I can't believe you're tromping around in those!"

Indeed the boy was wearing threadbare trousers, a thin shirt, and an oversized jacket of coarse wool. His feet were crammed into shoes a size too small, and his thin frame was trembling from the cold. "It wa'nt t-t-to-o-o b-b-bad." He mumbled around the clacking of his teeth. Clucking my tongue, I returned to the kitchen to finish fixing my tea, swiftly pouring the boy a cup of hot chocolate. Carrying the cups into the sitting room, I handed John his and expertly wrapped a nearby afghan around the child's shoulders.

"I hope your walk was not too bad." John shook his head as he sipped his drink.

"Nope! Roxy f-f-followed me the whole time, and she even b-b-brought me a present!" Reaching into his pocket, John pulled out an abnormally shiny stone in a near perfect oval. He handled it with care, and admired the color; a perfect shade of robin's egg blue.

"Who is this 'Roxy'?" I inquired suspiciously, my mind already wandering to thoughts of stalkers watching John.

"Roxy's a fox! I f-found her when I was p-playing in the woods a few years ago. She's real smart!" I nodded my head with a hum as I sipped my tea. Perhaps I should look into magical fox breeds. Roxy could very well be related to crups or kneazles for all I knew.

"Did you sleep well last night?" John nodded his head furiously, nearly splashing his hot chocolate as his green eyes sparkled with delight.

"Yep! I dreamt 'bout Gringotts and Sharptooth!" I chuckled at the boy's enthusiasm for such an obscure tale as mine.

"Would you like to hear more, John?"

"Oh yes please!"

"Well then, I suppose I should continue with our trip to Diagon Alley."

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Harry's eyes widened as I guided him into Madame Malkin's. The woman was on the petite side and perhaps a touch overweight. She bustled about her shop humming a happy tune as one of the other seamstresses ran the counter. "Come Mr. Evans, you are required to have three sets of robes and a winter cloak." The boy's mouth opened as though he were going to protest, but he seemed to think better of it. He shrunk into himself and followed behind me meekly, prompting a worried frown to pull at my lips. Poppy would have to examine him when I returned to Hogwarts. He _would _be coming to Hogwarts with me; I would not allow him to spend the rest of the summer at his house.

Guiding the boy up to the counter, I sneered at the seamstress as she smiled at Harry. The girl was a previous student of mine, a Hufflepuff who had never made it to my NEWT level class. She had often caused disastrous explosions that resulted in grievous injury to the other students. The girl winced when she caught sight of my sneer, and a sense of satisfaction welled within my chest.

"Professor Snape, how can I help you?"

"It is '_may_ I' Ms. Barnice, do work on your grammatical skills. I am here with a new student, and he requires a set of robes as well as his winter cloak." Ms. Barnice beamed as she was given the opportunity to escape my glare.

"Of course! Right this way! We have another customer at the moment, but it shouldn't be a problem to fit you both in." The girl's chipper attitude seemed to increase my glower with every word that escaped her lips. Passing through the curtain, my eyes widened as I caught sight of just _who_ this other customer was.

Caleb Potter was laughing heartily, his arm thrown round his wife's waist. The two were watching their son with joyful eyes as his godfather teased the boy mercilessly. Caleb Potter had long hair tied back at the nape of his neck. The locks were wavy, though nowhere near his father's messy head. He took after his mother in terms of appearance, with wavy hair, thick eyelashes, and paler skin. His jaw was strong and square, and his shoulders were broad. His muscles were firm from the physical work of an Auror, and his robes exuded the nobility of his blood. His hazel eyes were dancing with happiness, a sparkle I had often been witness to when he and his posse were attacking me.

Elizabeth Potter was a muggleborn witch with long, rich, honey blonde hair. It fell to her waist in thick ringlets of which she was quite proud. The woman had never been anything special, having little magic and even fewer skills in schooling. Her best assets came from her beauty, for which she was famous for. Elizabeth Potter had been known as an incurable flirt in our school days, with her baby blue eyes and perfect porcelain skin. When her pink, heart shaped lips would part, wizards would lean in close in awe. When she giggled her tiny laugh, the men would claim it was the sound of angels singing. She too, had been a source of emotional pain for me, not that anybody cared.

Harry clutched my sleeve frightfully, his eyes tracking the rambunctious crowd. Ms. Barnice stepped forward and tapped the platform with her wand, gesturing for Harry to step on it. The boy stepped forward with small, insecure movements, his eyes darting about for threats. As the platform began to rise we gained the attention of the other four customers.

"Snivellus, is that you?" Potter crowed, slapping a hand upon my back. My skin crawled in disgust, and I would liken the feeling to that of tiny ants rolling beneath the surface of one's flesh. "It's been years Snivellus!"

"Indeed it has, Potter." I sneered, my eyes boring holes into the side of his head. Ah, if only I could do just that. I could feel Harry's eyes on us, tracking our conversation with intense scrutiny.

"Are you still working on your nasty potions, Snivellus? Your hair seems greasier than last we saw you!" Ah, Sirius Black. A mongrel if I ever saw one, the man had been the bane of my existence. Many believed it was Potter who led the pranks, but it was Black. His ingenuity was impressive; however I couldn't help but hate him for it. The man had thick waves of hair, silken robes, and a house ring resting upon his finger. His station was high as he was head of one of the oldest and most noble houses in our community. The group burst into laughter, Elizabeth's tiny giggles positively grating on my ears.

"Indeed." I looked over Potter's shoulder to keep an eye on the man's son. If little Jordan Potter was anything like his father, the boy would pose trouble for Harry. He had ringlets similar to his mother, though the color was that of his father's raven hair. The boy had sparkling blue eyes, and pale skin. It was obvious that he would be quite the charmer as he grew older, no doubt helped along by his fame. The infamous lightning bolt scar was on proud display, framed by the boy's bangs. I couldn't help but sneer as the teen leaned over to whisper to Harry.

_"You a firstie?" _Harry blinked and nodded his head slowly, his arms held high for Barnice to continue pinning the robe to his thin frame. _"Thought so. You got that look around ya. You're a muggleborn too, I think."_ I scowled at the boy as Harry flinched from Jordan's disdainful tone. _"My names Jordan Potter; __**the**__ Jordan Potter. I'm a third year."_ Harry winced again as the boy abruptly thrust his hand forward.

_"H-H-Harry E-Evans."_ Jordan frowned as Mr. Evans refused to extend his own hand.

_"What's the matter? Too good to shake my hand? If anything __**I'm**__too good for __**you**__!"_ Harry flinched violently at the boy's tone, stumbling backwards a step. An indescribable rage boiled in my chest as I swept forward, righting the trembling child.

"That is quite enough, Mr. Potter. Contain yourself, or you will be scrubbing cauldrons on September first, rather than enjoying the welcoming feast." Potter's mouth gaped, his jaw working as he gave a rather accurate impression of a fish. Black's hand landed on my shoulder, and I could hardly suppress an annoyed groan.

"Don't talk to my godson that way, Snivellus." Black growled, his fingers pressing into the muscle of my shoulder. I sneered at the man, ignoring the flash of fury that sparked in his eyes.

"Your godson was terrorizing a new student two years younger than his own age. Control the boy and I wouldn't be forced to act in such a manner." The words spewed from my lips as I practically hissed at the lord. I wrenched my arm from his grip and turned towards the seamstress. "I assume you have finished Ms. Barnice?" The girl stared up at me with wide eyes as she nodded dumbly. I sneered at her and waved my wand, gently extracting the robe from Harry's person. "I expect his robes and cloak to be mailed to the castle in a timely manner. Come along Mr. Evans." Harry hopped off the platform and scampered after me, trotting quickly in an effort to keep up with my long strides.

Weaving my way through the throngs of excited students and gossiping witches, I easily led Mr. Evans to Flourish and Blotts. "It's time we collect your books, Mr. Evans." I handed the boy his list of books. "Find them yourself; I cannot always help you with every task." Harry blanched slightly, but took the list with trembling hands nevertheless. Holding the door open for the child, I watched as he took in the busy shop. His eyes landed upon a sign above some older shelves of books. The sign declared the books to be secondhand, and Harry immediately dashed towards the shelves. Crouching down, the child rifled through various unorganized stacks, his lips moving as he murmured the titles to himself.

After about ten minutes, Harry had amassed a sizeable stack of books, of which he proceeded to sort into two more piles. Judging by the state of each pile, I would wager he was sorting them into categories of value. Another ten minutes went by, and Harry had soon found useable copies of four of his books, leaving him to find the other four. Struggling under the weight of the stack, I took pity on the boy and cast a feather-light charm on each of the books. Harry gasped as they grew light, his eyes swiveling to mine before he looked at the ground again. "T-thank you sir." He whispered in a barely audible tone. I nodded and followed as Harry went to collect the rest of his books from the shelves.

As we left Flourish and Blotts to Slug and Jigger's Apothecary, I caught sight of Harry eyeing Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour with wistful eyes. A wave of guilt washed through me as I realized I had neglected to feed the poor child. I could hardly blame Harry for refraining from asking, as it was obvious the boy was abused, but _I_ should have known he would be hungry. Perhaps my own erratic feeding schedule factored into my inability to remember to feed others. "Come along Mr. Evans," I ordered, turning into the parlour. Harry gaped at me in shock, his eyes wide with an indescribable emotion. "It is time we sat down for lunch."

.

.

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"Mr. Evans," I began, my voice smooth and silken, yet softer than my usual tone, gentler perhaps. "Is your house often so…chaotic?" I raised an eyebrow as I waited to see what the terrified child would do. His large meal had barely been touched, likely a side-affect from malnutrition. My question was met with wide, wary eyes. This was a delicate process I was attempting to initiate. Without Mr. Evan's assistance and cooperation, I would be unable to apprehend his family in the wizarding courts. The archaic laws of our society prohibited trials without explicit permission and statements from the victim. My mind was a swirling mess by the time Mr. Evans slowly shook his head.

"Pa f-found out Jamie was pregnant again, sir. He w-wasn't very h-happy about it…" Harry trailed off as he glanced up at me, his eyes searching mine with an unknown emotion hidden in their depths.

"I see; and which girl was Jamie?" Harry fiddled with his food for a moment before mumbling, "The fridge." At that I could not resist the raising of both my brows. The girl at the fridge had barely looked to be a fifth year! "Indeed. Has she been pregnant often?" My question was met with a shrug and further mutilation of the sandwich at Harry's fingertips.

"She lost her first b-baby two y-years ago. Her son lives with m-mum's s-sister." The woman, Lily wasn't it, had a sister? Why, Merlin help me, were her children not with this sister then?! The conditions of that house were appalling, not to mention the activities taking place within earshot of Harry, among other things! Forcing my rage and confusion back behind one of my many occlumency shields, I proceeded with the questioning.

"Is your aunt a nice woman?" Harry shrugged again, his teeth gnawing on his pink lip ferociously.

"I s-suppose. She doesn't like mum v-very m-much. When she t-took Aiden she yelled a lot. P-pa told me I wasn't supposed to t-talk about her anymore." A frown tugged at my lips as Harry ducked his head in shame. The boy was shutting down, so I turned the conversation towards safer ground.

"How many siblings do you have, Mr. Evans?" Harry looked up through his bangs, his nose slightly scrunched.

"E-eight I think s-sir. Josh is the o-oldest and I'm the youngest…" Harry trailed off as he stared at the torn remnants of his sandwich. "Jamie is the n-next youngest, and she's f-fifteen. D-Daniel was in the r-room with me, he's fifteen too, almost s-s-sixteen. T-Tanya and T-Tara were in the living r-room, and they're eighteen. Jamie's boyfriend G-Gordon was w-watching the t-telly." I nodded silently, watching as Harry's shoulders hunched up slightly. It was obvious the boy was nearing the end of his thread and unwilling to talk any further.

"Thank you for sharing that, Harry." I murmured. The boy's head shot up as I stood. "It is time we made our way to the menagerie. I think it appropriate for you to purchase an owl." The child nodded dazedly as he stood, automatically gathering our dishes. I watched as he dutifully scraped each one off, placing the empty plates on the plastic tray above the garbage. My heart sank as I caught sight of a dark bruise when his shirt sleeve fell an inch or so down his arm. Harry quickly adjusted the sleeve, his eyes darting about frantically as he stumbled back to my side.

"Come along Mr. Evans." The boy trailed after me as I led him back out into the bright sunlight of the alley.

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.

.

John glanced up at me as I paused in my story. "Mr. Snape?" He asked softly, as if hesitant to break the peaceful atmosphere that had settled over the sitting room. I looked down at the boy from where he rested against the arm of my chair. "Is somethin' wrong?"

"No John, I was just thinking. I may have a picture of Harry's owl in the attic. Set the kettle on for another cup of tea while I go search." The child scampered off to the kitchen while I shuffled towards the stairs. The attic was a place I rarely ventured into, so depressing was the room. It held memories of which I could not seem to relinquish. It was the source of all the pain and agony I felt, and yet it had been my sole source of happiness for the longest time as well. The stairs creaked beneath my feet as I made my way higher.

Dust billowed out from the door as I slowly pushed it open. Trunks, cauldrons, cloaks, and books were neatly organized into several piles, and there, at the top of his old trunk, was my album. I am by no means a sentimental man, but when Harry had gifted me this album I had felt the stirrings of sentiment deep within my heart. Even now the sight of the book brings back memories of laughter by the fireplace, hand games with my sons and experiments with the boys. I had never questioned the value of this book; I had never believed simple pictures would come to mean so much to me.

Grasping the leather bound album, I slowly returned to my chair by the fire, gingerly adding a log to the flames as I passed. John was seated on the rug next to my chair, a cup of tea in his hands. Sitting down, I blew softly, banishing the dust as inconspicuously as I could manage. Taking my tea from John, I slowly opened the album.

Having been raised in the muggle world, Harry had taken all the pictures using a muggle camera. Though he had made magical duplicates using a complex potion, he had fashioned this album with the originals. Flipping through the memories with each page I turned, I paused when I caught sight of the picture I was searching for. Gently extracting the aged photo, I handed it to John. "Harry and Jessup, summer of 1993." The boy read quietly, his voice barely that of a whisper.

"This was taken the summer after Harry's third year at Hogwarts." I breathed as John stared at the picture in awe. We had taken it in front of my summer home. Jessup had just landed upon Harry's shoulder, and his wings were still flared when the camera had gone off. The owl was gorgeous, one of the most spectacular of his breed. He was a Great Horned owl with tawny plumage. Black and brown feathers mingled together in a dizzying array of patterns, though they were not the most striking feature of this owl. "Many had attempted to buy him before Harry." I informed John quietly. "Up until his arrival, Jessup had attacked any who had dared attempt to touch him. He was sought after due to his eyes." John leaned in close, gazing at the vibrant eyes of Harry's beloved familiar. They were a deep, fiery orange that struck fear into most observers. His eyes rang with deadly promise, a vow of death to any who harmed his master. Jessup had been fiercely protective of young Harry, to the point of attending classes with the wizard on a regular basis.

John gently tucked the picture back into its pocket, gazing at the two with wonder. "Thank you Mr. Snape." He whispered, tracing the outline of the two with his index finger. Clearing my throat in an effort to halt the tears that were threatening to leak from my eyes, I nodded.

"Now, I do believe I have a story to continue."

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Harry fidgeted nervously, his eyes darting about the room for any sign of an attacker. Rows of wands sat dusty and silent on their various shelves. Magic hung thick and heavy in the air, the weight growing more oppressive the longer we waited. My muscles were tense, my wand thrumming with the pulse of the magic. A loud crash, followed by a sickening wave of magic and an explosion, sent me into my defenses. Several shielding spells left my lips as I gently maneuvered Harry behind me. Raising my wand to defend the student crouched at my feet; I was taken aback by the appearance of Ollivander himself.

The man was coughing and waving his hands about, as though the motion would dispel the heavy cloud of smoke and dust. As he walked into the front of the shop, the wandmaker mumbled something about "far too much phoenix ash" and "not enough oak wood" before turning his attention to us.

"Mr. Ollivander," I sneered, waving my wand to dispel my various shields as I did so. "Kindly avoid setting your shop on fire, would you? I would hate to have to travel overseas in order to purchase wands with the students." Ollivander grinned at me, his eyes sparking with slight madness.

"Ah, Severus, you don't understand! I was so very close… perhaps some powdered poppy would settle it…no…"The wand-maker trailed off as he snapped his fingers. Several tape measurers flew from beneath a pile of boxes on his desk and wrapped themselves around Harry, thoroughly startling the boy. "Right or left handed?" The wizard called as he disappeared behind several shelves. Harry glanced up at me in slight fear, and I tilted my head in a manner I hoped he took as reassuring.

"R-right s-sir." The sound of several boxes flying from their shelves reached my ears as I snapped my own fingers, sending the tape measurers clattering to the floor.

"Indeed you are, boy!" Ollivander cried, thrusting a wand at the startled student. "Give it wave, go on!" Frowning, Harry did as he was told, only to flinch violently as several glass items shattered below us. Ollivander clucked his tongue and swiped the wand away, swiftly replacing it with another. Harry stared at the wandmaker in obvious worry, likely doubting the man's sanity as he raised the instrument for another wave. A shelf of wands crashed to the floor violently, much to the boy's distress.

Ollivander hummed as he grasped Harry's hands, studying the various callouses and scars. The wizard's eyes roved Harry's skin rapidly, reading the story of his life in the child's palms. "A hard worker, but not by your own choice… yes, a child who has seen far more than they should….mmhmmm…oh! You have seen death, haven't you?" Harry tensed, every muscle in his body quivering as he stared at the wandmaker. My eyes flickered between the two as I waited for the answer.

"Y-yes sir." Ollivander nodded gravely as he stood up, meandering towards the back of his store, "As you may have noticed, I like to experiment!" The aged wizard cried amongst the shuffling of boxes. "In my youth, I happened upon a rather generous creature that was willing to help me with my experiments!" Ollivander appeared at the end of an aisle, holding a single box with reverence. "I have made but one of these wands." The man whispered, gently lifting the lid of the box. The wand within was white as bone, a blood red rose wilting at the handle. Vines in a shade of deep green travelled the length of the handle, the twisted tip left bare. "Thirteen inches, bleached yew wood from a dead yew tree and bone of a diseased Hell Hound. The core is made of souls willingly given by the lord of Dementors. This wand was never meant to have a master, Mr. Evans." Ollivander's eyes were boring into Harry's own terrified orbs. "It is for one who has seen too much death already, and who will see far more. It is for one whose fate is sealed, one who is destined to die, and it is for someone who will do terrible, _fearful_ things; great things." Harry's hands trembled as he reached for the wand Ollivander was offering him.

The result was instantaneous. The shop was plunged into darkness as the sound of ravenous snarls and barking filled my ears. Screams echoed in the wand shop as fire blazed around Harry. Several Hell Hounds prowled behind him, their burning eyes searing into my soul from their position behind the boy. Harry's eyes were wide with awed horror as the cacophony grew louder. The Hell Hounds growled as they leapt forward, intent on ripping me to shreds, when the illusion ended. The light returned and I stared in surprise at the decimated shelves that had once held disorganized wands. Ollivander was watching Harry, his eyes tracking the shaking boy.

"You will be very important to our people one day, Mr. Evans." The wandmaker whispered as he spun on his heel and disappeared into his workroom.

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"Harry's not evil, is he?!" John cried his eyes wide with hope. I stared down at the boy, pain rippling through my heart.

"No John, Harry was never evil. Far too many people believed he was a bad person, someone to be killed. Harry wanted to be normal. He wanted to live his life in peace, and he did not want the wand that chose him." John nodded, his fears assuaged.

"Good. I like Harry, so he can't be evil." I blinked in stunned shock, before laughter bubbled out of my lips. John stared at me in surprise before he too began laughing. It took several minutes before we were both calm again. I smiled at John, and the boy stared at me quizzically.

"Thank you John. I have not had reason to laugh for a very long time." John giggled and nodded eagerly as he grabbed my wrist. Tugging me out of my chair, John led me to the door and pointed outside. During our story, the clouds had dropped their rain, bringing a heavy storm down upon the valley. Though the sun had yet to peek out again, the rain had let up, leaving muddy puddles in its wake.

"Come on Mr. Snape! We gotta go stomp in the puddles!" John zipped out the door, hopping slightly as he tugged on his shoes, before throwing himself into the nearest mud puddle.

"Sweet Salazar, what _have_ I gotten myself into?"


	3. Chapter 3: Lists and Family

**_Warnings: Child abuse of EVERY kind, prostitution, language, slash, implied mpreg, AU, OOC Snape just a little. _**

**AN: Right, here is the third chapter! I would like to first thank my sole reviewer darknightstalker, for their comments on my story. I really appreciate the feedback! So there are mentions of slash and mpreg in this chapter, butt nothing detailed. I hope you enjoy getting some more information on Harry and this particular universe!Thanks to everyone who has followed/favorited this story! Oh, and this is a story without a beta. Any and all mistakes are my own.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

**DramaQueen50**

**An Ordinary Boy**

_**Lists and Family**_

A scowl was firmly planted on my lips, and had been for the past few hours. Books, rolls of parchment, scrolls, and tomes were scattered throughout the floor of my bedroom. The wooden floorboards had been eagerly consumed by the widespread library, and was currently invisible to the untrained eye. It had been buried under a mountain of words somewhere around three hours ago. Sighing, I ran my hand through my limp, slightly greasy locks, grimacing as I realized I had yet to shower in three days.

Groaning, I slowly rose from my spot upon the floor. Flicking my wand to gather the writings into some sort of organized chaos, I sighed. The books had been utterly useless in my search for magical fox breeds. Species related to crups and kneazles had shown no relation to any breed of fox, and so I had been left in the whirlwind mystery of this enigma dubbed 'Roxy.'

Twisting the knob for the shower, a low growl reverberated in my throat. A memory was tickling the very edges of my mind, teasing me as it danced on the cliff of my conscience. Why could I not remember this...thing?! Resisting the urge to slam my head against the nearest hard surface, I quickly stepped into the calming cascade of steamy water. John would likely arrive soon, and I needed to be somewhat presentable for the boy.

The thought of the young child I found myself growing to care for had me anxious almost immediately. The boy had not come to my house in three days; not since I had shared my tale of Harry's first trip to Diagon Alley. Nearly gnawing on my lip with worry, I quickly stepped from the shower and threw a dressing gown over my shoulders. John would come today, or I would venture into the village for the first time in decades.

The very thought of setting foot in the perpetually cheerful, incessantly chipper village had me gagging, but I would persevere for John's sake. I owed at least that much to the child, for bringing a sense of hope and happiness back into my once bleak and sorrowful world.

Setting the kettle on for a strong cup of black tea, I sighed in relief as John's figure came into view at the edge of the forest. The child wasn't running today, but perhaps he was enjoying the rays of sunshine? I had a niggling doubt in the back of my mind that there was more to the story than simple enjoyment of the sun. Retrieving a second cup for John, I walked to the door to wait for him. My doubts proved to be viable, as John was indeed limping. The gait was growing more pronounced the closer he got to my cottage. John attempted to smile at me as he came within arm's reach of me, but it quickly faded to a grimace of pain. Frowning, I swiftly wrapped an arm around the six year old's waist and helped him inside.

The kettle was whistling shrilly by the time I returned to make my tea. I poured a second cup for John and added three generous spoonful's of honey to the drink as well. John grinned when I brought him his tea, his cheeks a touch too pale and his eyes a tinge too red. I sat in my chair and immediately growled out "What happened?" John frowned and stared down into his cup of tea, clutching the porcelain with both hands.

"I was playin' with Billy in the woods an' I fell down the hillside. It's no big deal." John shrugged and took a small sip of his tea, the trembling in his shoulders belying how anxious he truly was. I raised a single eyebrow and took a sip of my own tea, watching him from over the rim of my cup. It took but a few seconds before John began to fidget, gnawing on his lip and twisting his cup.

"And how, pray tell, did you manage to escape this encounter on the hillside without a single scratch upon your arms or face?" John frowned and bit his lip harder, nearly drawing blood from the abused flesh.

"I ducked and rolled?" He mumbled, watching me from beneath his bangs.

"Indeed." I hummed, taking another sip of my tea. "I don't abide by lying, John; however I am willing to wait until you are ready to tell me the truth. In the future, if you do not wish to discuss something, simply say so rather than lying to me." John flinched as if he had been physically struck by my words, his eyes cast towards the floor.

"I'm sorry Mr. Snape." He whispered thickly, and I felt my heart soften somewhat.

"It is in the past John, it no longer matters. Now, shall I continue with our tale?" John nodded and cuddled up to my legs, obviously requiring physical comfort. I could practically feel the doubt at the back of my mind growing stronger as I dropped a hand to stroke through his silky hair. "I do believe I was about to introduce you to Hogwarts."

Unlike most people, Mr. Evans, I had soon deduced, seemed to lack the inherent ability to land properly post apparation. The young wizard would stumble and sway on his feet in dangerous directions, clutching his stomach as though he was struggling to contain his meal. I gave the boy a few minutes to recover, but I felt ready to leap from my skin, so strong was the urge to meet Poppy. I was determined to ensure Mr. Evans did not return to his family, and that required the mediwitch's help. "Come along Mr. Evans." I nearly growled, my robes fluttering about my ankles as I strode through the dewy grass.

Hogwarts stood in all her glory at the top of the hill. The deep red stones of the brick walls were nearly glowing with inherent magic as the sun shone on the grounds. Harry was stumbling behind me, yet I paid him no mind, as I was absorbed in memories of my schooling. The Whomping Willow swayed in the slight breeze, smaller branches snapping threateningly at any creatures that dared come within the violent tree's vicinity. From our position on the hillside, I could glimpse another figure hurrying across the grounds, cloak pulled tight to fight off the breeze.

Having quickened my steps, I found Minerva just passing through the entrance hall as we arrived. Her strict appearance seemed to strike fright in Harry, but I hadn't time to comfort the boy. "Minerva! Fetch Dumbledore and have him meet me in the infirmary." I growled, gently moving Harry to stand in front of me. McGonagall's eyes went wide as she took in the presence of the young boy.

"Severus what—" A scowl twisted my lips as I glared at the stunned transfiguration professor. "Now Minerva." Nodding her head slowly, the witch spun on her heel and marched off towards Dumbledore's office. "Come Mr. Evans, we must catch Poppy before she leaves for her vacation." Harry clutched my sleeves with a harsh grip; his purchases all bundled into a trunk within my pocket. I swooped down the corridors, storming into the infirmary with all the style of an enraged bat.

"Poppy! I have a patient!" The shuffling of papers and slamming of files could be heard from the mediwitch's office, though slightly muffled by a heavy door. "Poppy!"

"Oh hush you! I've been quite busy preparing for my trip; you must give me a moment! Now where did I—"I pushed open her door after instructing Harry to sit upon one of the infirmary beds.

"Poppy, I have a new student in the infirmary and I need you to do a complete examination. The conditions he was living in were absolutely deplorable, and I fear he may have been thoroughly abused by his relatives." I refused to call those people his family, as family didn't harm one of its own. Poppy froze, staring at me with wide eyes. I, being the head of Slytherin house, was used to dealing with small abuse cases from the shadows. I could take care of the basics and brew the correct potions, but Harry's situation was completely out of my league.

"Oh dear." Drawing her wand, Poppy marched from her office with a frown, summoning several potions as she went. I followed warily, unwilling to get between the matronly woman and her charge. The mediwitch crouched down and smiled reassuringly at the terrified student. "I'm going to cast a simple diagnostic charm on you, alright? It won't hurt, but it will make your skin glow different colors." Harry bit his lip, his eyes darting about for exits.

"Harry," I murmured, gentling my voice to a soft whisper. "It will be fine." The boy looked near tears, but he nodded his head all the same, forcing his face into a mask of stone.

"Thank you, dearie." Poppy smiled, waving her wand and muttering under her breath. A roll of parchment appeared next to the potions, an unknown quill scrawling various ailments across the aged paper. Harry's skin brightened, the pale hue shifting to glowing shades of red, from deep crimson to pale pink. A few spots of dark brown or black could be found across his body, but I found myself more worried about the sheer amount of crimson issuing from his skin. Harry had twitched at the appearance of the colors, but was obviously controlling himself as he refrained from jumping out the window, or engaging in some other form of dangerous escape attempts.

Poppy grasped the roll as it continued to grow larger, gasping quietly as her eyes tracked over the words. I sped to the witch's side, my own eyes widening as I read the various ailments currently found on Harry's person.

_Bruised mandible_

_Fractured left clavicle_

_Fractured metacarpals in right hand_

_Six broken fingers_

_Two broken toes_

_Fractured left tibia_

_Fractured right fibula_

_Bruised spinal cord_

_Three fractured ribs_

_Fractured left ulna_

_Fractured right radius; fractures in three positions_

_Fractured Occipital_

_Deep tissue bruising along mid to upper back_

_Bruised pancreas_

_Bruised liver_

_Inflamed appendix_

_Infected Lungs_

_Concussion along rear and right sides of the brain_

_Deep tissue scarring along mid to upper back_

_Deep tissue scarring to left bicep_

_Deep tissue scarring to right calve_

_Deep tissue damage to optic nerves_

_Long term damage to neurons and neuron pathways_

_Calcium deficiency_

_Anemic_

_Electrolyte Deficiency_

_Auditory impairment_

_Mobility impairment in joints_

_Scarring in various joints_

_Joint swelling_

_Severe malnutrition_

_Shrunken stomach_

Poppy let out a near silent sob as she turned away from the list. My hands were clenched into tight fists at my sides, the skin having turned white under the pressure I was exuding. Harry had turned away from us, his eyes glimmering wetly in the sterile lighting of the infirmary. His lips trembled and his entire frame shook as if he were a small leaf caught in a raging storm. I inhaled deeply, hoping for the air to calm my raging thoughts, despite the ineffectiveness of the action. Slowly, as though approaching a trapped animal, I made my way over to the tiny boy. Crouching down, I gently held my hands out for Harry, waiting until the boy caught sight of them.

"Harry," I stopped as my voice fled me, my throat nearly choking me as I struggled against a tsunami of emotion. "Harry, I need you to tell me where you hurt the most. Could you do that for me?" The boy's lip shook as he gave a short jerky nod. A tear, small and solitary, trailed down his pale cheek as Harry placed a shuddering hand to his chest.

"It hurts t-t-t-to b-b-breathe." I nodded and gently pushed the boy back against the bed. Conjuring several pillows, I placed them behind Harry's back until the child was reclined, but not laying down. "I have several potions to give you Harry, but I need to fetch Poppy first. In the meantime, I want you to drink these. They won't taste exceptionally well, but they will help you, alright?" Harry nodded, and I placed three vials in his lap. My handwriting was scrawled across the top, labeling the potions as vitamin supplements, calcium supplements, and a blood replenishing potion. "I shall return in a minute."

Poppy was rummaging through cabinets of potions lining the walls of her office. Tear tracks stained her cheeks, but the mediwitch soldiered on, collecting a large pile of potions. "He'll have to stay overnight for the skelegrow to take effect. I would prefer if he stayed longer to monitor his nutrition and vitamin levels, but that decision belongs to the headmaster." I nodded.

"Minerva should be arriving with him soon so that I may talk to him. I administered a vitamin and calcium potion, as well as a vial of blood replenisher to offset his anemia." Poppy smiled gratefully as she conjured a tray for the various vials she was collecting.

"Thank you Severus." I nodded and returned to the infirmary, striding towards the doors as the sound of footsteps reached my ears. Pulling them open, I scowled at the headmaster's smile. Despite the circumstances for which he was called, Albus still managed to find something worth _smiling_ for. How I loathed that ever present grin. Waving my hand towards the child seated in the infirmary, I turned back to the headmaster.

"That is Harry Evans, a first year muggle born I had been assigned to escort through Diagon Alley today. Poppy and I have an exceedingly large amount of evidence that suggests his family has abused him. I would like to request your help in beginning a case against Mr. Evans' family. I wish to have them prosecuted, and to have Mr. Evans placed in a proper home."

Albus' eyes were dim, their usual twinkle having fled in the face of abuse such as Harry had seen. The elderly man stared at Harry with sorrow, his lips pursed as he watched Poppy force potion after potion down the child's throat. "I'm afraid there is little we can do for him Severus." I could have sworn my heart stopped at that moment.

"What?!" I hissed, my eyes nearly lighting the aged headmaster aflame. "How in Merlin's name are we unable to help him? He was obviously abused; we have medical records and my memories from my visit as proof of that! It would take little effort to convince Harry to testify, and we stand minimal chance of losing." Albus' eyes seemed to grow, if possible, even dimmer.

"Unfortunately Harry is a muggle born. The lack of action taken against his family thus far worries me. I fear that any move to take action on our part would result in tension with the muggle government. We would require the minister's support in the case, and the cost of employing a legal liaison and a pureblooded lawyer would be far too high for him. As of this minute, I have enough proof to legally keep him at Hogwarts, or with a teacher for the rest of the summer; however I will be required to release him at the end of the year." Albus stared at the young wizard with mournful eyes. My heart clenched painfully as I realized just how hopeless this endeavor was.

"Poppy requested that he stay for a few days; in the meantime I will discuss his housing with my husband." A ghost of a smile flitted across Albus' lips as I scowled at my pseudo grandfather.

"Of course, dear boy. Take all the time you need."

"Cheerful old coot." I grumbled, turning away from the headmaster to speak with the young wizard. "Harry," I murmured gently, grasping the boy's attention immediately. "I need to go home for the evening. I have some important things to discuss with my husband. I shall be back tomorrow morning, and I expect a gushing review from Poppy when I return." I warned, smiling softly. I rarely smiled in the presence of others, but Harry seemed to draw the blasted muscle movements out of me. Walking over to the blazing fire, I threw some Floo powder into the flames, admiring the emerald green they changed to. With a shout of "_Moonshadow Cottage,_" I disappeared in a dizzying display of magic.

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"You had a husband?" John gasped, staring at me with wide eyes. My heart ached as I nodded.

"Indeed I did. I had a son as well, two in fact." Reaching for the album I had left lying on the table next to my chair, I flipped open the cover to show John the very first picture Harry had placed within. "This was taken by my oldest son whilst my husband and I were unaware." The picture was of my love and I as we relaxed in our garden. It was the summer of 1993, a year I remember as one of my happiest times. "His name was Remus Lupin." I murmured, pointing to the man.

Remus had been the love of my life, and the only person who believed me worthy enough to beg for Albus' help in escaping the Dark Lord's grasp. Even _I_ had not believed myself worthy, having only gone to Albus at Remus' insistence. "He came to Hogwarts in his sixth year, and while it took quite a while for us to grow close, I have yet to love another in his absence." I whispered. Remus' arrival to Hogwarts had come at both the best and worst time. Had he enrolled just a year earlier, I would have been lucky enough to escape my life as a spy altogether, yet his earlier arrival would likely have prevented our relationship.

Remus' first impression of me had been rather horrible. Potter and his petty posse had been terrorizing me out by the lake, surrounded by eager students cheering them on. Jinxes, hexes, curses, and spells had been tossed back and forth between me and the three of them. After nearly ten minutes of desperate attempts to escape, Black had hit me with a spell of his own creation, which left me a blinded, helpless mess on the grassy shore of the lake. The spell blinded one's subject, leaving their eyes in the cover of shadow. It robbed one of all senses save for the ability to hear. Black used this spell to his complete advantage, taunting me, slandering my name, and being a general _arse_ while Potter and Pettigrew laughed in the background.

The entirety of the crowd had been completely taken aback when a new voice had entered the fray. The voice was husky and deep, a low, threatening growl that demanded Black release me from the grips of his spell. Remus would later tell me that I imagined the following noises, but I am quite sure my husband had managed to land several curses on the boys before Black finally ended his spell.

I believe Remus recognized me as a potential mate immediately. I, of course, had no such advantage, and was left to flounder in the thoughts and emotions of a hormonal teenage boy. It took me nearly a month to work up the courage to thank the werewolf for rescuing me from my attackers, and several more before I dared to accept his offers for a date. The man would ask me if I wished to accompany him to Hogsmeade each trip, and though I refused many times, we still ended up visiting the village together. Perhaps my subconscious recognized Remus as my mate, even if _I_ refused to do so.

"He's very happy." John stated, handing me the photo. I nodded.

"Remus was a very optimistic man, one who always smiled for the sake of others." John grinned, bouncing slightly in his seat.

"So did he agree to let Harry stay with you?" I chuckled and leant back in my seat.

"I suppose you could say he didn't have a choice in the matter."

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"Dad!" A loud squeal reached my ears, hardly preparing me for the overactive child that threw himself into my arms. "You won't believe it!" Chuckling, I pressed a soft kiss to my son's forehead as he grabbed my hand and tugged me towards the kitchen.

"What, pray tell, will I not believe Maddox?" The boy bounced on his toes as he ran further into the kitchen, swiftly returning with a vial in his hands. "Papa supervised me while I made it all by _myself_!" I was certainly surprised. Maddox had given me a vial of Dreamless Sleep, a potion only required of fourth year students and older. Raising one eyebrow, I looked down at my little boy.

"You cleaned up your station and left your cauldron to soak?" Maddox nodded, his eyes sparkling happily. "Well, I suppose congratulations are in order." Leaning down, I swept the boy into a hug, whispering into his ear, "You need not worry about chores tonight. I'm proud of you." Squealing, Maddox wrapped his arms around my neck, squeezing tightly before dashing off to my room. Two muscular arms wrapped around my waist and I sighed.

"How was your day, love?" Remus queried, nuzzling my neck gently. I sighed wearily as the stress of the day rolled off my shoulders. The invisible weight left me nearly sagging with relief.

"It waseventful, to say the least." Remus looked rather intrigued as he turned back to the stove, stirring a pot of stew and watching me ease into a chair. "As you know, I was escorting a new student through Diagon Alley today. His name is Harry Evans, and he happens to be a rather bright boy. He is extremely timid, rather quiet, and he rarely speaks, but he is smart. I have a feeling he will be very important one day." Ollivander's words circled in my head as Remus' eyebrow rose.

"I have a feeling there is more to the story than what you're sharing." I sighed, my shoulders slumping further forward as I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"You are correct. Harry is quiet and timid because his family abused him horrifically. Poppy gave him a full examination which proved he had several fractured bones, deep tissue bruising and scarring, internal problems, and malnourishment. Vitamin deficiency is just the tip of the iceberg of his physical abuse, let alone the emotional and mental instability he has! Those people were terrible Remus! The state of their house and the _activities_ they partook in with Harry but two rooms away!" I was breathing heavily as Remus set down the spoon, pulling out a chair at our table as he grasped my hands.

"How far did the abuse go? Is there anything we can do to help? Is he staying at Hogwarts? Can Albus help?" I shook my head despairingly.

"I talked to Albus while Poppy was administering potions. I brought him to Hogwarts after we finished his shopping. I wanted him to have a chance to see the wizarding world before we started on his case. Unfortunately, Harry is muggleborn, and a prosecution would be a convoluted mess that would cost far more than the boy has ever dreamed of owning. Albus has enough evidence to keep him from going back this summer, but he would be forced to release Harry at the end of the year unless a case was underway. The scan didn't show any signs of sexual abuse, so we have no reason to incriminate the family immediately." I sighed as Remus gently stroked the back of my hand with his thumb. "I told the headmaster I would discuss the possibility of him staying with us over the summer. Harry is welcome at Hogwarts, however I think it would be detrimental to his mental health to leave him on his own in the castle." Remus nodded slowly, his amber eyes gentle and sad.

"I have no problem with housing him, but we would need to talk with Maddox. We don't have an extra room, so the boys would be sharing. Ultimately the decision is ours, but I would prefer having our son's support." I nodded, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Remus' lips. The werewolf moaned and moved to wrap a hand around my neck, when I pulled away and stood.

"I'll go talk to him love." Remus grumbled but acquiesced all the same, tending to the stew as I walked down the hall. Maddox was muttering to himself, shuffling things about in his room when I knocked on the door. Pushing the door open, I smiled as I watched Maddox search through his multitude of potions texts.

"Maddox, may I have a word." The eleven year old paused, staring up at me with eyes a shade identical to his father's amber color. His ebony hair bounced slightly as he stood, tilting his head to the side.

"Of course!" Pulling me inside, Maddox forced me onto his bed, subsequently plopping himself onto my lap. With a slight huff, I leant back against the wall, carding a hand through his hair.

"I met a boy today named Harry. He's very kind, but his family is rather cruel. They hurt him quite a bit, and they don't love him. He's not welcome at his house for the summer, and I wanted to know if you would be willing to let him stay here for the time being."

"How old is he?" Maddox asked, fiddling with the buttons on my robe as I watched him.

"Harry will begin his first year at Hogwarts this fall. He will have to share a room with you, but you could teach him about the wizarding world." I murmured. Maddox nodded.

"Is he a muggle born." I hummed out a yes, and Maddox shrugged. "I don't mind! It will be nice to make a friend before school!" I sighed. Remus and I had a rather controversial relationship, so we had homeschooled Maddox for his own safety. Though it had kept him out of harm's way, Maddox had but his familiars and family acquaintances for friends.

"Thank you Maddox." I murmured, pulling my son into a hug. He giggled, squeezing me tightly. We stayed cuddled together, simply talking about all things under the sun, until Remus called us for dinner.

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John was nearly asleep as I paused in my story. Chuckling to myself, I slowly stood from my chair, casting a feather-light charm on the boy. Lifting him into my arms, I laid him out across my sofa, tucking an afghan around his thin frame. Throwing some logs onto the embers of the fire, I shuffled into my room, glaring at the mess littering the floor and various surfaces.

As I picked up a rather large tome about various magical dog breeds, I caught sight of a Japanese scroll. "Perhaps…"I muttered, gathering the scroll and sitting on my bed. As I unrolled the ancient parchment, I found my eyes widening. "Impossible." Roxy couldn't be, could she? They hadn't been seen in nearly a hundred years, and were known for staying in Japan.

"Ah, but there is a chance." I suppose I shall be doing further research on the Japanese demon _Kitsunes_.


End file.
